Beautiful

by Anita Waller

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said and once more the guilt settled around him like a cloak. ‘Come on, I’ll walk up to Stonebrook with you.’ He squashed the image of Dawn’s face from his mind. ‘Perhaps later…’

  She smiled and gently kissed his cheek.

  ‘Mmmm,’ she said, ‘perhaps later.’

  ‘Does this mean she’s accepted me?’

  Ken and Brenda stood at the gate of Stonebrook and watched as Amy with John pushing the high-wheeled pram, made their way back down the lane. The evening was fine but there was a chill in the air and the young couple walked quickly, pausing at the bottom of the lane to turn and wave.

  Brenda shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘I don’t know. I’m just so glad they came. Lauren is my grandchild, you know. But I fear for her, Ken, I fear for her.’

  ‘Who? Amy?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘No. Little Lauren. Ken, there’s something I must tell you before we’re married…’

  ‘Married? Is this a proposal, Brenda?’

  She clapped a hand to her mouth.

  ‘Oh God! A Freudian slip I think.’

  ‘Meaning you want to marry me?’

  ‘You big wassock, Ken Buckingham. Of course I want to marry you.’

  ‘Wassock? Wassock? Where’ve you learnt Yorkshire rubbish like that?’

  ‘So?’ She grinned at him.

  ‘As you’ve proposed to me, does this mean you buy me the engagement ring?’

  ‘Oh no, you don’t. You’re not getting out of buying me the biggest diamond in Padstow… I might have proposed but you can dig deep into that pocket.’ She paused. ‘Can I take it the answer’s yes?’

  He nodded and took her face in his hands.

  ‘The answer’s yes. Brenda Andrews, you’re beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.’ He bent and kissed her.

  ‘Feel any better about Ken?’

  John sat on the edge of the bed and removed his trousers. Amy had been quiet ever since their return from Stonebrook. He was curious about her reaction now the news of the relationship had settled and she had met them as a couple.

  She took off her bra and, unusually, turned round to face him. He felt his erection begin against his will and his eyes lingered on her breasts. Absolute perfection.

  She cupped them with her hands and stroked the nipples with her thumbs.

  ‘Forget Ken,’ she said throatily. ‘Make love to me, John.’

  He groaned softly and reached across to pull her down on to the bed.

  She was, as usual, superb. And clinical.

  ‘You have someone else,’ she said as they lay back to back. John’s heart skipped a beat.

  ‘Someone else?’

  ‘Yes. Someone who’s teaching you how to make love, how to control yourself. I’m not stupid. And what’s more I know who it is.’

  ‘You’re being silly, Amy. I…’

  ‘No excuses, John. Finish it, or else.’

  ‘Or else what?’ He played along.

  ‘Or else you’ll never see Lauren again.’

  ‘And that’s what she said,’ he finished with a sigh. ‘She was quite adamant that she knew who it was. She can be very vindictive. I thought I ought to warn you. If we carry on seeing each other, she could do anything.’

  Dawn smiled at him.

  ‘I think you’re over-reacting.’ She stroked his stomach and he gave a small sigh of pleasure. ‘Do you want to put a stop to what we have?’

  ‘Quite the opposite. If I was to say I was thinking of leaving Amy, what would you say?’

  Her laughter pealed around the bedroom.

  ‘What would I say? I’d say you’re talking through your proverbial hat. You’ll never leave Amy – I don’t know what happened in her past but it’s tied you so firmly to her that you’ll be there until the day you die. However, my delicious John, all that is irrelevant. I want to keep my independence. I’m committed to you and there will be no other man, but I won’t live with you.’

  He was silent for a long time.

  ‘John? You still with me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have I upset you?’

  ‘Yes,’

  ‘Do you love me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then respect my wishes,’ she said.

  Amy’s confidence in her ability to dispose of rivals to John’s affection was astounding. She didn’t mention the subject to him again and put it on a back burner. She had the party to organise and that had to come first. After that…

  And then of course, there was this damn dinner.

  ‘Egg mayonnaise for starter?’

  ‘Whatever. Keep it simple. You’ve still got Lauren to look after.’ John spoke without looking up. She placed a tick by egg mayonnaise and moved on to the main course.

  ‘Do you think steak?’

  ‘Sure. Everybody likes steak.’

  'What if he doesn’t?’

  ‘He will.’ John finally looked up.

  ‘But he might not. I mean, what do we really know about him? He says he’s from Yorkshire, but is he?’

  John burst out laughing. ‘

  ‘You’ve heard his accent for heaven’s sake! He’s definitely from Yorkshire.’

  ‘Och aye! And are you absolutely sure?’ Amy responded in a pure Scottish accent.

  He laughed again.

  ‘Point taken – so you can change your accent. But he even looks like a Yorkshireman – stocky, fair hair, craggy features…’

  ‘Just like Ronald Treverick would look now,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Oh, Amy, you can’t be serious!’

  ‘Never more so.’

  ‘Look, go and get that photograph, then we’ll see. I don’t remember that picture looking anything like Ken, not even in a vague sort of way.’

  ‘Not much point, is there? He obviously won’t look like that now. The first thing he would do is change his appearance – no, John, he’ll not look the same as he did all those years ago. We’d never recognise him now.’

  He stood and pulled her into his arms.

  ‘Hey, come on. You’re getting yourself into a real state. Ken Buckingham is not Ronald Treverick, believe me. He’s much too nice a chap. Besides, Treverick won’t want to go back to prison again. He’ll never come near you. Now let’s sit down and finish this menu off. Accept it Amy, he’s clearly in love with your mum, just as she is with him. We were talking steak, weren’t we? Well, let’s consider jacket potatoes, maybe with peas and carrots? And what about one of your famous trifles for dessert?’

  That night Amy dreamed of Ronald Treverick and woke screaming in the early hours of the morning. It was the first dream of many, every one of them ending in violence.

  26

  ‘Was the steak all right for you, Ron?’ she had asked. Amy passed off her slip of the tongue with laughter.

  Brenda had stared.

  ‘Ron? Did you say Ron? Look young lady, if this feller's going to be your stepfather, you’d better get used to his name. Ken, Ken, Ken. Think you can remember that?’

  Amy laughed again.

  ‘Memory must be going. Did I really say Ron? Can’t think why.’

  But John knew it was a test. If Ken had responded…

  But he hadn’t.

  John was angry with Amy for carrying on with the idea that Ken Buckingham was Ronald Treverick out to wreak revenge – or to repeat the crime. But he accepted that what Amy had gone through had left her vulnerable. He stifled any recriminations. He’d let it drop, provided she did.

  The meal was a success. Brenda proudly showed off her engagement ring without attempting to hide that her wedding ring had moved to the third finger on her right hand. Amy’s congratulations had been stilted; John’s warm and meaningful. They had toasted Brenda and Ken with champagne and kept the conversation light.

  Amy never asked if they had set a date for the wedding.

  It was only as they said their goodbyes that Ken spoke directly to Amy.

  �
�The wedding will be in four weeks time at the Registry Office. We’d like you to be there but it will be a very quiet affair. Freda is one witness and we’d like John to be the other, if he agrees.’

  Amy nodded.

  ‘I’m sure he will.’ There was no warmth in her voice.

  ‘I love her very much, you know. I won’t hurt her, always take care of her – do you deny her right to some happiness?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  He looked at her for a long moment.

  ‘Then accept me. I’m a very lucky man. Your mother is beautiful inside and out. Beautiful, Amy. You are only blessed with looks.’ He turned and walked to where John and Brenda were standing.

  He didn’t see the anger and fear on his future stepdaughter’s face.

  Ken and Brenda walked home slowly, arm in arm, pausing occasionally to enjoy the warm evening air of early June.

  ‘Bren, when you proposed you were about to tell me something. In fact, isn’t that how you proposed?’

  Brenda hesitated momentarily, and then nodded.

  ‘Mmm. And I know I’ve got to tell you because Amy is my daughter and I want you to understand why she is as she is. Although God only knows how you’ll understand – I can’t, and I’m her mother.’

  ‘Freda understands her.’

  She turned to look at him, eyes wide.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘There’s something about Freda. She’s got nous.’

  Brenda laughed.

  ‘God, I love you. Nous, indeed. But I think you’re probably right. She’s always seemed to know what was going on in Amy’s head. But I’ll start at the beginning…’ She grabbed his arm tightly for a second, her face vacant, her eyes searching his and recalling the pain of years gone by. ‘When Amy was little, six years old, she was raped. An eighteen year old called Ronald Treverick attacked and raped her.’

  There was absolute silence until Ken exhaled.

  ‘Dear Gods,’ he said softly. ‘That poor child… how you must have all suffered. So that’s why they can’t have children?’

  She nodded

  ‘Yes, he tore her apart. They had to remove virtually everything. It was a bad time – still is. ‘I don’t know what to say. It explains a lot, doesn’t it? She’s frightened of men. She thinks I won’t be any good for you because of that animal.’ He held her close. ‘Thanks for telling me. This will make things easier; help me understand why she’s being so bloody awful to me. And it will help me be more tolerant towards her.’

  ‘She’ll come round,’ Brenda whispered into the cool fabric of his shirt, ‘I’m sure she will.’

  ‘The party,’ Amy said woodenly, still recoiling from everything Ken Buckingham had said to her. ‘We’ll set it for the 21st of June and make it a triple celebration. Publication of The Son, Lauren’s adoption will be finalized by then and Ken and Brenda’s wedding.’

  She never called her mother anything but Brenda from that day on.

  Freda couldn’t ever remember wanting to cry tears of happiness so much. She wasn’t a crying person – quite the opposite. She’d cried when they had said Amy would recover, she’d cried when Jack had died and she’d cried two days ago at Ken and Brenda’s wedding. She sat quietly on a garden seat and pulled her straw hat over her face, ostensibly to shield her eyes from the sun but really because she enjoyed observing people without them knowing. Looking around at all the people assembled on the green lawns at John and Amy’s cottage, she wanted to cry again. And she didn’t really know why.

  ‘Silly old fool,’ she muttered to herself, ‘nothing to sniff about.’

  But she felt happy. She’d suffered alongside her sister-in-law after Jack’s death. Looking at Brenda now, those black days seemed long ago. In Ken, she had found another soul mate – two in a lifetime, an incredibly lucky woman.

  She had never regretted being single, at least, not until today. Brenda glowed and Ken looked as though he’d won the lottery.

  So many people she knew were all there smiling, sharing in the pleasures of the family. They’d participated in the hard times and now had taken time out from their own lives to join in a celebration, to join in welcoming two new members into the family, baby Lauren, now officially adopted, and Ken Buckingham.

  Amy looked spectacular in a peach trouser suit, her long blonde hair loose and flowing. If she hadn’t known she was twenty-four, Freda would have put her at eighteen years old. Pat looked far more mature in a turquoise dress that ended just above the knee. The two of them were engrossed in whatever they were discussing.

  The noise of the party, inconsequential snippets of conversation, clinking of glasses, laughter; all of this washed over Freda as her eyes began to close ‘Miss Andrews?’

  Freda was interrupted from her slumber but smiled at the young girl.

  ‘Linda – good to see you. Are you enjoying the party?’

  ‘I would be if…’ Her voice trailed away. Linda stared across the lawn towards her employer’s wife. Freda patted the chair next to her.

  ‘Sit down, young lady, and tell me what’s wrong.’

  Linda continued to watch Amy and sat by Freda’s side.

  ‘I don’t know what’s wrong.’ She shook her head as she spoke. ‘Mrs Thornton’s so against me and I’ve no idea why. I’ve worked here for nearly a year now. She only speaks to me in a decent way when John’s around. When he’s not there, well…’

  ‘Linda, you’re very young. Has it not occurred to you that you’re a pretty girl? Amy is lacking in confidence…’

  Linda snorted.

  ‘No, seriously, she is,’ continued Freda. ‘There are things that make her different to other women. I suspect she sees you as a rival.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous!’ The protest came too readily.

  ‘Ridiculous, is it? I think you have a soft spot for your employer – am I right?’

  Linda stared into space for a moment.

  ‘I know.’ Freda patted her hand. ‘Amy’s sensed that. Oh, I know John would never stray, he loves Amy far too much, but my niece is too insecure to see that.’

  Linda looked at the older woman, a frown on her face.

  ‘Then what do I do?’

  ‘Put up and shut up if you want to carry on working here. Sorry to be so brutal – my nature, you know. Amy won’t change. Don’t see why you should, so…’

  Linda continued to look across at Amy, still deep in conversation with Pat.

  ‘I hope Mrs Thornton does change,’ she said slowly, ‘but she won’t.’

  Freda was intrigued by the note of sadness in Linda’s voice.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘It’s Lauren.’

  Freda paid special attention.

  ‘Lauren? Something wrong? Tell me, girl, don’t hide it.’

  ‘There’s nothing to hide, but that’s just it. I don’t think she loves that little girl. She keeps her clean and well-fed but she doesn’t play with her, cuddle her… nothing.’ She turned swiftly and spoke with vehemence. ‘She doesn’t love the baby.’

  Freda wanted to believe it was the fanciful imagination of a young girl in love with her employer, but in the depth of a velvety black night, she lay tossing and turning, unable to sleep for thinking about what Linda had said.

  Could Amy really be that unfeeling? She thought back to the time when young Amy had burnt the doll and pram. It had been horrific and she had talked through many long hours with Brenda about the lack of emotion in the youngster.

  She obviously hadn’t improved with age. And yet the baby appeared contented enough, was beautifully attired and well fed.

  Freda rolled out of bed cursing the extra weight she was carrying and the arthritis that was slowly stiffening all her joints. ‘Cup of tea,’ she muttered and headed downstairs.

  Freda recalled that at the party Amy hadn’t once looked at Linda; it was as if the young girl didn’t exist to her. At the end of the party when everyone was making plans to go home, Linda had app
roached Freda again.

  ‘I’ve decided what to do,’ she had said quietly. ‘I’m going to look for another job, starting tomorrow.’

  She had gone before Freda could persuade her to change her mind.

  She sighed as she switched on the kettle in the sterile, cold kitchen.

  ‘Damn and blast you, Amy!’

  She hit her fist hard on to the work surface, a huge surge of anger washing through her. Then she crumpled. It wasn’t Amy she should be railing against - it was Ronald Treverick. He was the cause of all their problems.

  Amy had been a perfectly normal happy child until 1952. In the long grass at the edge of the playing fields, something inside her mind as well as her body had been destroyed forever.

  The cup of tea didn’t help and at seven o’clock, with the sun already hot, she went for a walk. It was inevitable that she would find her way to Stonebrook.

  Ken was already up in the glass house, Brenda tidying away the breakfast dishes.

  ‘I don’t want to do this to you.’

  Brenda looked closely at her sister-in-law. She seemed more brusque than usual – a sign that she was deeply troubled.

  ‘Don’t want to do what?’

  ‘Burden you when you’ve just got married.’

  ‘Burden me? Do I need Ken here?’

  Freda shook her head.

  ‘Think not. Women’s talk. Young Amy.’

  She sat down and told Brenda of her conversation with Linda.

  ‘I’m sure she’s wrong. Amy loves that baby…’

  ‘Does she? Or is she going through the motions? Has she fooled everybody yet again, just like she’s done for the past eighteen years or so?’

  ‘She couldn’t fool John, could she? Not with something as important as this,’ Brenda said quietly. ‘Perhaps Linda has some ulterior motive for saying these things, you know. Amy loves that baby and she takes such good care of her. She’s fine, Freda. Lauren is the one thing that will bring Amy back to us, I’m sure of it.’

  27

  June had been a hot month and the July heat showed no sign of lessening.

  Pat’s invitation to Amy to spend the day with her and Pilot had received a lukewarm response, but, in spite of Amy’s growing obsession with getting rid of Linda Chambers, she was enjoying the day out.